If Paris was Wally's favorite European city, mine is Innsbruck, Austria. Innsbruck's antique downtown looks directly into the snowcapped peaks of the Karwendel Alps with the wonderful Seegrube or Mutteralm.
The Austrian Tyrol is highlighted with their slap dancing, lederhosen, singing, and yodeling. Weiner Schnitzel is by far my number one favorite meal in Austria, and then, of course, there is the great beer.
There is just something about the people that makes this my home away from home. The best way I can describe it is the German phrase glückliche Menschen, or "happy people."
Our next stop was Munich, Germany.
Every town, village and city has its own museums celebrating the rich European history. Our bus tours highlighted churches, cathedrals, museums, memorials, statues, city halls, local and national heroes, rivers, lakes, and trees. Several Caravanners were fastidious note takers, at times asking tour guides to repeat their comments several times and to spell unfamiliar words.
I suppose I could dig deep in the net and find and itemize the hundreds of names of places I visited in Europe. I won’t, not enough time, and not pertinent.
One castle is worth mentioning, Neuschwanstein Castle. This storybook castle was the reclusive residence of King Ludwig II, King of Bavaria. History refers to him as the “Mad King.”
In a travel commentary this is said about Ludwig:
Ludwig failed through his desire to anchor his illusions and dreams in reality. From 1885 on foreign banks threatened to seize his property. The king's refusal to react rationally led the government to declare him insane and depose him in 1886 – a procedure not provided for in the Bavarian constitution. Ludwig II was interned in Berg Palace. The next day he died in mysterious circumstances in Lake Starnberg, together with the psychiatrist who had certified him as insane.
In the same release, the following was said about the castle:
Today, Neuschwanstein is one of the most popular of all the palaces and castles in Europe. Every year 1.4 million people visit "the castle of the fairy-tale king." In the summer, around 6,000 visitors a day stream through rooms that were intended for a single inhabitant.
When we toured the castle, it was a quieter tourist day. Jet travel hadn’t brought millions to Europe, the fortunate boarded small trans-oceanic planes, as I did, or traveled by passenger liners.
Munich is a delightful Bavarian city. Our campsite was near a river, grassy, and shared with other campers. One day Löwenbräu brought a horse drawn wagon with barrels and barrels of their famous beer to our campsite for the Caravanners enjoyment.
One night my mother and I went to the Hofbräuhaus in München, originally founded in 1589.
Caravanners have a knack to visit areas that most tourists don’t go to. At the Hof we went to the third floor where tourists don’t go to and is frequented by locals. We ordered two liters and joined in with the festive atmosphere.
Two tables down, standing on a chair, was a middle-aged German enjoying far too many liters. His skin was alabaster white with bright rosy cheeks, and he was plump and short. There, on top of his bald head, was a liter of beer sloshing around as he sang and kept the stein in place. As they say, go where the locals go.
The Hofbräuhaus am Platzl in Munich inspired the song "oans, zwoa, g'suffa" (the Bavarian dialect for: one, two, down the hatch). I listen to the song and memories from this night come back and the great night mom and I had together.
The Hofbräuhaus we went to has since burned down and has been rebuilt.
Part Three: From New York to Zurich
Part Four: An Instant Connection
